Happy 98th To Minnie, A Dear Woman Who's Fading

A PERSONAL TOUCH

May 20, 1998|By MARLENE CLARK

My mother-in-law, Minnie Clark, turned 98 on May 12. I wish I could say she's sharp as a tack, that she's able to carry on a conversation and has wisdom to impart, but I can't. She's had dementia for at least a decade, and in this twilight of her life, she responds to people only at a basic level. A smile from a visitor elicits an ``I love you,'' when she decides to speak. She sometimes recognizes my name, but she has no concept of our relationship. She knows only that I'm her friend, and she likes to touch my face.

It's a cruel irony that this woman who said she was ready to meet Jesus after the passing of her husband, Roy, in 1981, would outlive both her sons. Bill, my husband, died in 1995. His brother Gene died in 1997. When I told her of Bill's unexpected death, she responded with a wail so primeval, it tore into my own tormented heart. Every few days she'd ask when he would visit, and I would have to remind her he was gone. It was sad to watch her experience the loss again and again. Eventually, the news that her ``Billy'' was in heaven became easier for her to bear. By the time Gene died, the memory of her children were behind veils in her mind.

Minnie entered a nursing home in 1993. Before that, she attended the Salvation Army Adult Day Care Center on Main Street in Middletown. The day care center filled a care gap the family was unable to provide: care and socialization during the day. The experience also began my real education in the treatment of elderly people.

I used to cringe when I saw the Salvation Army's clients sitting in white plastic lawn chairs on the sidewalk in front of the building. I thought it was cruel to put them on display, but this analysis was wrong. Main Steet was their front yard. Sitting there gave them a chance to be part of a world that was passing them by, and they enjoyed the occasional ``hello'' from folks on the street.

Attending the day-care center allowed Minnie to stay in her Higganum home while the rest of her family worked, but soon, that arrangement wasn't enough. She needed constant care. In 1993, she entered Dogwood Acres in Durham. She became a resident of High View Health Care Center in Middletown in 1995 following hospitalization for a broken hip.

Her mental and physical condition deteriorated after she broke her hip. She refused physical therapy because she didn't understand what was being done to her: It hurt and she didn't like it. She had been a vegetarian most of her life, but she stopped eating solid food and would only drink health shakes, a sweet concoction that contains necessary nutrients. At first, the staff at High View thought it was because she was slipping away, but imagine my surprise when I found her sitting in a chair one day. She was recovering, but in her condition, the term was relative.

Nonetheless, Minnie's been holding her own. She has amazed everyone. She occasionally will nibble on soft sandwiches and mashed fruit, but she refuses vegetables. She responds to kindness, but recently has become distant on many occasions. At her birthday celebration, she batted a balloon with recreation director Stefanie Marco and enjoyed the creme-filled candy my sister-in-law, Betty, brought her. She spends most of her days in the assisted lounge, where she can enjoy Lawrence Welk on television.

Her birthday came in the middle of National Nursing Home Week, but she was unaware of the day's festivities that included a chocolate bake-off. She would have enjoyed all that chocolate. The residents entered a sunflower cake -- a round chocolate cake with yellow frosting topped with chocolate kisses and surrounded by yellow frosted twinkies. Those who made the cake enjoyed the feeling of independence that working in a kitchen gave them. They even enjoyed doing the dishes, a chore we think we'd like to forget. The cake took third place.

The baking exercise is one of many High View has undertaken to give residents a sense of independence in their lives. About a dozen residents belong to a weekly supper club that is responsible for planning, making and a meal once a week. They have to clean up after themselves, too. Minnie would have liked that, too.